Miss Peregrine's Peculiar Children / Tales of the Peculiar
(Sprache: Englisch)
A companion to the New York Times bestselling Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, now a major motion picture directed by Tim Burton.
Before Miss Peregrine gave them a home, the story of peculiars was written in the Tales.
Wealthy...
Before Miss Peregrine gave them a home, the story of peculiars was written in the Tales.
Wealthy...
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A companion to the New York Times bestselling Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, now a major motion picture directed by Tim Burton. Before Miss Peregrine gave them a home, the story of peculiars was written in the Tales.
Wealthy cannibals who dine on the discarded limbs of peculiars. A fork-tongued princess. These are but a few of the truly brilliant stories in Tales of the Peculiar-the collection of fairy tales known to hide information about the peculiar world, including clues to the locations of time loops-first introduced by Ransom Riggs in his #1 bestselling Miss Peregrine's Peculiar Children series.
Riggs now invites you to share his secrets of peculiar history, with a collection of original stories in this deluxe volume of Tales of the Peculiar, as collected and annotated by Millard Nullings, ward of Miss Peregrine and scholar of all things peculiar. Featuring stunning illustrations from world-renowned woodcut artist Andrew Davidson this compelling and truly peculiar anthology is the perfect gift for not only fans, but for all booklovers.
A perfect gift, reminiscent of classic bookmaking, this beautifully packaged volume features full-page woodcut illustrations, gold foil stamping, a ribbon, and removable back sticker.
"[These tales] embody gentle, empowering messages: accept yourself and others; celebrate difference and oddity; never lose your sense of wonder." -Financial Times
"With a Victorian style for writing and a capacity for subtle humor, the tales read as cautionary fables, rich with peril and phantasy, and will be enjoyed by teens and adults alike." -GeekDad.com
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The Splendid CannibalsThe peculiars in the village of Swampmuck lived very modestly. They were farmers, and though they didn t own fancy things and lived in flimsy houses made of reeds, they were healthy and joyful and wanted for little. Food grew bountifully in their gardens, clean water ran in the streams, and even their humble homes seemed like luxuries because the weather in Swampmuck was so fair, and the villagers were so devoted to their work that many, after a long day of mucking, would simply lie down and sleep in their swamps.
Harvest was their favorite time of year. Working round the clock, they gathered the best weeds that had grown in the swamp that season, bundled them onto donkey carts, and drove their bounty to the market town of Chipping Whippet, a five days ride, to sell what they could. It was difficult work. The swampweed was rough and tore their hands. The donkeys were ill-tempered and liked to bite. The road to market was pitted with holes and plagued by thieves. There were often grievous accidents, such as when Farmer Pullman, in a fit of overzealous harvesting, accidentally scythed off his neighbor s leg. The neighbor, Farmer Hayworth, was understandably upset, but the villagers were such agreeable people that all was soon forgiven. The money they earned at market was paltry but enough to buy necessities and some rations of goat-rump besides, and with that rare treat as their centerpiece they threw a raucous festival that went on for days.
... mehr
That very year, just after the festival had ended and the villagers were about to return to their toil in the swamps, three visitors arrived. Swampmuck rarely had visitors of any kind, as it was not the sort of place people wanted to visit, and it had certainly never had visitors like these: two men and a lady dressed head to toe in lush brocaded silk, riding on the backs of three fine Arabian horses. But though the visitors were obviously rich, they looked emaciated and swayed weakly in their bejeweled saddles.
The villagers gathered around them curiously, marveling at their beautiful clothes and horses.
Don t get too close! Farmer Sally warned. They look as if they might be sick.
We re on a journey to the coast of Meek, explained one of the visitors, a man who seemed to be the only one strong enough to speak. We were accosted by bandits some weeks ago, and, though we were able to outrun them, we got badly lost. We ve been turning circles ever since, looking for the old Roman Road.
You re nowhere near the Roman Road, said Farmer Sally.
Or the coast of Meek, said Farmer Pullman.
How far is it? the visitor asked.
Six days ride, answered Farmer Sally.
We ll never make it, the man said darkly.
At that, the silk-robed lady slumped in her saddle and fell to the ground.
The villagers, moved to compassion despite their concerns about disease, brought the fallen lady and her companions into the nearest house. They were given water and made comfortable in beds of straw, and a dozen villagers crowded around them offering help.
Give them space! said Farmer Pullman. They re exhausted; they need rest!
No, they need a doctor! said Farmer Sally.
We aren t sick, the man said. We re hungry. Our supplies ran out over a week ago, and we haven t had a bite to eat since then.
Farmer Sally wondered why such wealthy people hadn t simply bought food from fellow travelers on the road, but she was too polite to ask. Instead, she ordered some village boys to run and fetch bowls of swampweed soup and millet bread and what little goat-rump was left over from the festival but when it was laid before the v
That very year, just after the festival had ended and the villagers were about to return to their toil in the swamps, three visitors arrived. Swampmuck rarely had visitors of any kind, as it was not the sort of place people wanted to visit, and it had certainly never had visitors like these: two men and a lady dressed head to toe in lush brocaded silk, riding on the backs of three fine Arabian horses. But though the visitors were obviously rich, they looked emaciated and swayed weakly in their bejeweled saddles.
The villagers gathered around them curiously, marveling at their beautiful clothes and horses.
Don t get too close! Farmer Sally warned. They look as if they might be sick.
We re on a journey to the coast of Meek, explained one of the visitors, a man who seemed to be the only one strong enough to speak. We were accosted by bandits some weeks ago, and, though we were able to outrun them, we got badly lost. We ve been turning circles ever since, looking for the old Roman Road.
You re nowhere near the Roman Road, said Farmer Sally.
Or the coast of Meek, said Farmer Pullman.
How far is it? the visitor asked.
Six days ride, answered Farmer Sally.
We ll never make it, the man said darkly.
At that, the silk-robed lady slumped in her saddle and fell to the ground.
The villagers, moved to compassion despite their concerns about disease, brought the fallen lady and her companions into the nearest house. They were given water and made comfortable in beds of straw, and a dozen villagers crowded around them offering help.
Give them space! said Farmer Pullman. They re exhausted; they need rest!
No, they need a doctor! said Farmer Sally.
We aren t sick, the man said. We re hungry. Our supplies ran out over a week ago, and we haven t had a bite to eat since then.
Farmer Sally wondered why such wealthy people hadn t simply bought food from fellow travelers on the road, but she was too polite to ask. Instead, she ordered some village boys to run and fetch bowls of swampweed soup and millet bread and what little goat-rump was left over from the festival but when it was laid before the v
... weniger
Autoren-Porträt von Ransom Riggs
Ransom Riggs grew up in Florida but now makes his home in the land of peculiar children—Los Angeles. He was raised on a steady diet of ghost stories and British comedy, which probably explains the novels he writes. There's a nonzero chance he's in your house right now, watching you from underneath the bed. (Go ahead and check. We'll wait.) If not, you can find him on Twitter @ransomriggs.Andrew Davidson graduated from the Royal College of Art with a Masters in Graphic Design. Davidson has worked as an illustrator in a number of different disciplines, but craft and design have always been the cornerstones of his work. His varied career has included wood engravings for The Iron Man byTed Hughes, more than twelve sets of stamps for The Royal Mail, and the glass etched doors for the Centre Court at Wimbledon. He is married to his wife Julia, and has two sons, Lewis and Hugh.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Ransom Riggs
- Altersempfehlung: Ab 12 Jahre
- 2016, 192 Seiten, mit farbigen Abbildungen, mit Abbildungen, Maße: 15,7 x 23,4 cm, Gebunden, Englisch
- Verlag: Penguin Random House
- ISBN-10: 0399538534
- ISBN-13: 9780399538537
- Erscheinungsdatum: 23.08.2016
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
There is a poetic, timeless morality to these tales, like classic fables, but they all have a modern sensibility, a mischievous darkness and an understanding of what it feels like to be young. New York Times Book Review[These tales] embody gentle, empowering messages: accept yourself and others; celebrate difference and oddity; never lose your sense of wonder. Financial Times
Praise for the #1 Bestselling Miss Peregrine s Peculiar Children series:
A New York Times Bestseller
A USA Today Bestseller
A Wall Street Journal Bestseller
A visually rich literary experience. New York Times Book Review
Boy, can Ransom Riggs tell a story. NPR.org
Chilling, wondrous. People
David Lynchian imagery, and rich eerie detail. Entertainment Weekly
[A] thrilling, Tim Burton-esque tale with haunting photographs. USA Today
Weirdly wonderful characters. io9
A tense, moving, and wondrously strange first novel. The photographs and text work together brilliantly to create an unforgettable story. John Green, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Turtles All the Way Down and The Fault in Our Stars
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